


The Comforts of Hell

by Lassarina



Series: Lucis Ante Terminum [2]
Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-10
Updated: 2008-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassarina/pseuds/Lassarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He must have offended the gods, to suffer the whims of fate thus; how else to explain this cadre of tormenting demons?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Comforts of Hell

His return to consciousness was slow, like struggling out of a pit of mud that ever tried to draw him back down. The first thing he was aware of was blinding pain, an agony that pulsed through his entire body and left him wishing he had remained unconscious. There was a horrible pressure on his chest and his legs, and sharp edges digging into his flesh. He pried open one of his eyes, and through the blurry triple images and the searing torture of sunlight stabbing into his eyes, he determined that he lay beneath a boulder. He could see his arm, lying at an unnatural angle, and he was quite sure that both his legs were broken.

The summoner child had done this in her wrath; he remembered shoving Cecil aside as the mountain tumbled down upon them. He cast his gaze about as best he could, but he did not see his near-brother anywhere.

A low groaning sound reached his ears. At first, he thought it was the echoes of his own voice, but he heard more than one voice. A horrendous stench assaulted his nose, and he tried to turn his head to ascertain the source. He saw a vaguely humanoid shape lumbering toward him, but it was difficult to make out details with the blurring multiple images his eyes insisted on creating. Even as he watched, it seemed that a portion of one of its limbs fell to the ground, and the stench intensified.

The shape paused and emitted a groaning sound. Kain heard footsteps and saw a larger, hulking shape approach. The reek of decay became unbearable, and Kain thought he might lose consciousness again from the smell alone.

The larger shape turned and shouted something in a foreign tongue. More footsteps approached, and Kain could dimly make out that this figure wore a long red cloak.

He heard more incomprehensible words, and then the first figure shambled toward Kain, accompanied by four or five more creatures approximately the same size. Up close, Kain could see that they resembled the descriptions he'd heard of zombies, and his fingers twitched, aching for the familiar haft of his spear.

The zombies groaned to themselves as they surrounded him, and Kain wished fervently that if they intended to slay him, they do so swiftly, for he could think of few deaths as pitiful as expiring from zombie stench.

The zombies, however, did not appear overly interested in devouring him; rather, they turned their attention to the massive boulder that dug into his flesh. Kain was certain he'd survived this long only because he seemed to have fallen in a small hollow in the ground that had kept him from being completely crushed.

The pressure of the boulder moved away as the zombies forced the boulder off of him, letting it tumble end-over-end down the valley that had once housed the village of Mist. Kain lay still, knowing he still breathed only because of the stabbing pain that radiated down his side every time air went into his lungs.

He wished they had killed him rather than freeing him, for a crippled warrior was no good to Baron. And Rosa...no. He would not think of her. She was lost to him already.

The red-cloaked figure approached him and stood above him, seeming to examine him. The enormous figure followed close behind, and the reek of zombies, which had faded somewhat when they hauled the rock away, returned full-force.

He heard a low, feminine laugh from just to his right, and cast his gaze there to see another humanoid figure with cascading blonde hair perched on a rock outcropping. "Master will be pleased," she said.

"We cannot move him thus," the red-cloaked figure replied.

"Can't you fix him?" The new voice had the slow thunder of surf on the shore. Kain heard a ponderous creaking sound, and caught a whiff of brine as a bluish shape came into view from somewhere behind him. Why could he scent the ocean here, in the mountains?

"His wounds are beyond my powers; did I heal him now, he would be frozen in this shape evermore. Master Golbez wanted a whole servant, not a crippled wreck." The red-cloaked figure gestured, his cloak flapping in the wind.

"Think of the fun we could have with a crippled wreck." The voice was a low, groaning hiss, like the sounds of the zombies. The large, hulking creature moved closer, bringing his stench with him. Under it, Kain could smell something that was almost like rotting vegetation. "It has been long since I've had a human to play with, and this one seems oddly resilient."

"Find another toy, Scarmiglione." Yet another voice joined the conversation, and it sent shivers down Kain's spine; the implicit malice in that voice was no less apparent for the silky tone. The four creatures surrounding him drew back as one to make room for this new arrival. The figure that moved into his view was very tall, or at least seemed thus from Kain's supine position, and clad in a dark cloak that made him appear garbed in shadow.

The blonde leapt from her rock and pressed close to the dark figure. "Master," she said, and Kain detected something in her voice that unsettled him even more than this bizarre scene. The wind picked up abruptly, swirling around him and mixing the scent of brine and the rotting stench of the zombies; had he aught in his stomach, he would have vomited. Had he so offended the gods with his lust for Rosa that they had cursed him to hell?

"Let us go," their master said, and that was all Kain heard before he mercifully slid back into darkness.

When next he surfaced, the pain was just as intense, but he found himself lying upon a soft bed and covered with a blanket of wool combed so fine he could not see the weave. He glanced quickly around him and saw the dark-clad one standing to his left.

"Kain Highwind," he said slowly. His face was invisible behind a black helm, and beneath the dark cloak he wore Kain glimpsed black armour.

When he tried to speak, his lips cracked and bled, a tiny sting compared to the excruciating pain that seemed to strike every nerve he had. He had to stop for breath after almost every other word. "I fear you have the advantage of me."

"My name is Golbez." He lifted his arms, and blue-green light sparkled at his fingertips. The spell settled in a bright blanket over Kain, and some of the pain eased. It no longer hurt to breathe, and the other injuries were reduced to a dull, insistent throbbing. Once more light gathered around Golbez's hands, and the healing spell spread through him with a cool, refreshing tingle, soothing the pain.

Kain flexed his hands and feet experimentally. His muscles ached, and he knew from experience with Rosa's magic that he would ache for a day or so as his body recovered from wounds not meant to heal so swiftly. Still, he seemed to be whole, and not a twisted, crippled wreck. Perhaps the gods were not so wroth with him after all.

"Rise," Golbez said softly, and Kain did so, turning to face his benefactor.

"I have saved you," Golbez said. "I would have you serve me."

"I am already oath-sworn to the King of Baron," Kain said. "Though I am grateful beyond words for your kindness in rescuing me, and I would be more than pleased to render such acts as might mitigate my debt to you, I cannot forswear myself."

Golbez moved his hand, and blinding agony ripped through him once more. He thought he screamed, though it was hard to perceive anything save excruciating pain. It went on and on, and its sudden absence was as shocking as the pain had been.

"I suggest you consider my offer," Golbez said, and his voice was still soft, soft as Rosa's when she tended to the ill and wounded. "You are suited to far more than trailing after Cecil like a kicked puppy. You are a Dragon Knight. You are meant to rule the skies, not to be crushed beneath the boot heel of a churl with mechanical means of flight to his aid."

Kain opened his mouth to protest, but in his mind's eye he saw the day he and Cecil had chosen their paths in Baron's military, when King Odin's favour had turned to the Dark Knight who commanded his Red Wings and left Kain fighting for such meager scraps as Cecil let fall by the wayside.

"Think on it," Golbez said. "I will return to hear your answer. Choose wisely, and you shall be rewarded. Choose poorly..." He fell silent, and Kain fancied the black helm rearranged itself into a cruel parody of a smile. After a moment, Golbez spoke again. "There is one in Baron I think you would sooner defend with your life than allow one hair upon her head to come to harm. It is something to consider when you are weighing the scales."

The sorcerer left, closing and barring the door behind him. Kain sank down on the bed and was unsure whether he had begun to laugh or cry.

Truly, he must have offended the gods. To be forced to choose between Rosa and his honour was hell indeed.


End file.
